


The Way You Move Ain't Fair, You Know

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-25
Updated: 2010-05-25
Packaged: 2018-09-03 06:07:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8700385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: The incredibly gay and erotic adventures of Jenny Boy and Jay Ryder.  Also known as the Stripper!AU that wouldn't leave me alone.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

**THE WAY YOU MOVE AIN'T FAIR, YOU KNOW.**

Jared/Jensen [pre-slashiness]. AU.

R. 5,600 words.

The incredibly gay and erotic adventures of Jenny Boy and Jay Ryder. Also known as the Stripper!AU that wouldn't leave me alone. 

 

 

Jensen doesn't share the spotlight. The spotlight is his sun: under it, he shines, and no one else is allowed to cast shadows.

 

Alright, maybe he's a little over dramatic when it comes to his job. But strippers have goals, too, and being the best-of-the-best means never having to be Part B of an act, or the warm-up before the feature. Jensen 'Jenny Boy' Ackles is the feature performer, thank you very much, and he has worked his ass off (and up, down, and sideways) to get here. There's more to being an elite, exotic dancer than just being good at taking his clothes off. Routines to perfect and exercises to stay limber, plus a certain _something_ that helped Jensen climb to the top of the ranks quicker than he could climb a stripper pole. 

 

There are plenty of advantages to being at the top. Jensen's clientele are vetted and loaded; that means no more nights spent shaking his God-given assets on sticky stages in nameless clubs. His talent is legendary and he dances at exclusive venues where the cheapest bottle of champagne is three hundred dollars. Jenny Boy struts his stuff for the biggest names in Hollywood.

 

Or, as the case is tonight, for a future Mrs. Big Name.

 

Bachelorette parties have never been Jensen's favorite, but when Mr. Big Name wants the top-of-the-line in adult entertainment for his soon-to-be third wife, let's face it, Jensen is the only choice. Showcasing himself for a dozen women in Big Name's Hollywood manor is clearly not the same as dancing for dollar bills in some suburban living room where Jensen has to close his eyes during lap-dances to block out hideously mismatched decor and awkwardly posed family photos. God, he shudders. So awful. 

 

Instead, the future Mrs. Big Name's friends are gathered in the outdoor grotto, wearing cocktail dresses that cost someone their monthly salary. Jensen approves of the decorations, the catering, and the ensembles, and he's envisioning how to make his entrance (Sneaking in? Dimming the lights and going for something sensual? These things require thought!) when things go horribly wrong.

 

"Sorry to interrupt, ladies," a deep voice barks. "But one of your neighbors reported y'all for wild and crazy behavior. I'm afraid I'm gonna have to _investigate_."

 

Some people have repetitive nightmares of free-falling or drowning. Jensen, from now to the hereafter, will have nightmares about this. A tall man waltzing confidently into the grotto wearing—no, oh _hell_ no—a police costume that's a few sizes too small and mirrored aviators, every piece of his outfit cheesy. Jensen is practically allergic to cheese.

 

Half of the women are giggling into their Cosmopolitans. The other half, led by Big Name's current leading lady, are confused, searching the grotto for Jensen. Fuck it. Jensen pouts while the shadows hide him, his entrance is already ruined. He slips into the grotto, bringing all eyes to his radiant torso.

 

"Alli," the perfectly coiffed leading lady hisses. "I thought I told you that my Dennis had already covered the entertainment!"

 

A pretty blond in an azure dress doesn't look chastised whatsoever, sipping daintily from her martini glass. "I know, but I heard how good this guy, Jay Ryder, was and figured two would be better than one."

 

Jensen snorts and Jay Ryder's sharp eyes dart over, the aviators now pushed up and holding his hair back. Jensen's mind takes a split second to appreciate how very nice his hair is. Respecting great hair care is one of the tenets of his life.

 

"This is Jenny Boy, he's the best," future Mrs. Big Name's best friend astutely points out.

 

"Oh, come on. What's the big deal?" Alli twirls the hem of her vivid dress around her finger. "They're both really hot! I mean, do you guys mind?"

 

Jensen's fuming under the sheer, lightly diamond-tinted body powder coating his shoulders and torso. His pretty, lined eyes hold nothing but contempt for the only other man in the grotto. Jay Ryder stands at ease, unconcerned with the conversation.

 

"I don't usually perform with anyone else." Jensen flat-out lies. He _never_ does duets. "It's not what—"

 

"How about you guys talk it over and work something out?" Alli smirks. No lap dance for her, Jensen decides on the spot.

 

Outside of the grotto, on the stone walkway that skirts around the designer in-ground pool, they aren’t afforded much privacy. Jay rounds on Jensen, cool attitude left behind with the bachelorette and her horde.

 

"Please, man," he nearly begs. "I could really use the money from this, and I promise I won't get in your way. Can't we just share?"

 

"I don't share," Jensen counters, firm as if he's commanding a boardroom, not dressed for erotic temptation.

 

"I know." Jay's whole body sags towards the stone pavers. He makes an extremely large, and extremely wounded picture.

 

"You know who I am." It's not phrased as a question.

 

The guy straightens. "Yeah, of course. Jenny Boy. You're, like, completely famous. I can't believe I'm standing here with you, I'm such a fan!"

 

His praise is flattering, Jensen admits. Nowhere in his reputation is there a clause about being overtly cruel, so Jensen relents. But he needs to make sure he’s the top dog of this event.

 

"How much are they paying you?"

 

"Five hundred," Jay beams. "Got the cash right before. Plus, you know, any tips. Not anywhere close to what you're making, I'm sure." He's unfortunately right. Jensen's going rate for shindigs like this is fifteen thousand, already cleared and in his bank account, not to mention some of the exorbitant tips he's used to having shoved into his underwear.

 

"Right," Jensen stutters, feeling horrible and selfish in the wake of this kid's enthusiasm. "We'll go back out there, and we'll do this. But first, there are gonna be some ground rules."

 

Jay tucks close enough to listen, closer than Jensen's used to, and hangs off every instruction the legendary Jenny Boy provides.

***

Usually, when Jensen performs, everything fizzles and fades into the background. Tonight he's razor sharp, constantly aware of Jay Ryder moving around the grotto, their dancing eerily coordinated merely through looks and slight nods.

 

Prepared for amateur theatrics and cheap stunts, Jensen's jaw comes unhinged when he sees how Jay leashes his considerable physical power and makes every one of his moves look graceful. Oh sure, there's some corniness involved. Mix drunk, horny women with super-flexible men and there's bound to be more than a few awkwardly intimate moments. Like Jay feigning surprise when Alli whip-smacks his ass, too beautiful to be covered in oil but now marked with tiny pink hand prints. His black underwear is absurdly small, stretched tight across his hips. Jensen prefers his emerald green pair. They accentuate his eyes, and even though his eyes are the last thing anyone's going to notice during his routines, he's proud of his detailed effort.

 

The music pumping through the expensive stereo system suits them both and, true to his word, Jay follows Jensen's lead. They don't touch, but the women are getting off on their chemistry as they gyrate and bend in the grotto's moody lighting. God and genetics gifted Jensen with a body that was never meant to be hidden under ill-fitting slacks and shirts, and he can’t help but notice Jared is just as impressive. A toned and taut form, abs bunched beautifully at his core. He's ridiculously built and Jensen would stare if he weren't nearly naked and swinging his ass for the future bride.

 

Soon, the women are carried away by the performance, tipsy on their Manolo heels, grinding on male bodies. Jay's having a blast, his big arms picking up and spinning the women as they cheer him. More reserved, Jensen seduces the bachelorette and her friends with his eyes, lips barely touching their bare, narrow shoulders to give them a taste of the passion he's built to embody. Twice, he has to catch someone before they swoon. Like Jensen said, he's _legendary_.

 

When their allotted hour is up, the grotto's become nothing more than a dance club. The women swirling and dancing with each other, a parade of neatly dressed waiters who keep the Cosmos flowing. The men are relegated to the edge of the Sapphic celebration, catching their breath and pulling on their pants. Jay's smile hasn't dimmed but he stays quiet, glancing over at Jensen. Jensen's pockets are thick, stuffed with bills, and he knows Ryder made out pretty well, too.

 

Alli and another blond stumble over, eyes bright with mischief. 

 

"Jay," she purrs. "Are you and Jenny Boy up for a little more fun?"

 

"What kind of fun did you have in mind?"

 

Jensen gives him credit. He reads exhaustion in Jay's eyes, but his voice is honey-sweet and alluring. The wad of cash Alli pulls out grabs their undivided attention.

 

"A thousand bucks." She waves the cash, her French tips digging into the paper. "We want to see you two kiss."

 

"Sorry," Jensen immediately declines. "That's not part of the show."

 

"Hang on, ladies," Jay drawls. "I need to have a little talk with Jenny, here." As if he's been doing it all night, he steps up and slides his arms around Jensen's waist, fingers slick in the sweat gathered across the small of his back. The women turn and giggle, giving them the illusion of privacy. "Please, I know I've already asked you once, but for me? Just this one more thing?"

 

"Jay, this isn't what I do," he insists. "You've already made a good amount of money."

 

"Another five hundred dollars will buy me a couple of textbooks," Jay quietly remarks. "I can't pass up that kind of money. And making out with you? Yeah, that'll be tough, but—"

 

"Tough?" Jensen gapes, settling into the sway of Jay's hips. "Kissing me is _tough_?"

 

Jay's entire face is pleading with him. Dimples begging for a favor, his brow reassuring.

 

"Fine," he concedes. "But make it quick before I change my mind."

 

The smile he gets is private, the kind Jensen wants to box up and keep for himself. "God, thank you, Jenny!"

 

Alli and her friend come scooting back over at Jay's beckoning finger. 

 

"Is this a private show or are your friends invited?"

 

"Just us," Alli says, slipping the cash into Jay's back pocket and lingering. The rest of the party is occupied on their makeshift dance floor and one of the waiters has lost his vest, looking happier to be surrounded by a dozen women than he was carrying a pewter tray with stuffed mushrooms. "Now, we want to see you really kiss."

 

"My pleasure."

 

Jensen can't get a handle on things before Jay's up close and personal, pressing into his space. He's been treated to a thousand kisses, but number one thousand and one turns out to be the game changer. This is the talent Jay's been hiding all night, mouth soft and teasing as he coaxes Jensen's lips apart. He shouldn't be surprised that Jay's tongue moves as sensually as the rest of his body, wrapping around Jensen's and pushing slickly. Fingers on his hipbones, thumbs streaking the shimmer left over from Jensen's performance. Jensen tries to remember that they're being watched, that this is all an act, but gets lost along the way, curving himself against Jay and pushing back. It doesn't matter if their audience is laughing, gasping, or sighing—Jensen can't focus on anything but the play between them.

 

They cross a line between performance and something else, something out of Jensen's control. He can't name it in time; Jared pulls away with a final kiss to the corner of Jensen's mouth.

 

Jensen has been around the block so many times, he figured nothing could surprise him. But this kiss, Jay's intensity...well, it's a big fucking surprise.

 

"Jay, that was—"

 

"Jared." His lips make the shape of the word on Jensen's cheek. "My name's Jared."

***

"Do you ever...you know?" Jared ducks his head. "I mean, money's always a little tight for me and I've had offers—"

 

"Don't." Jensen's a little surprised at his insistence, knowing right away what Jared's getting at. "The second you compromise yourself like that, the act loses all its meaning."

 

The backyard is quiet, the party having moved inside. Jared and Jensen help themselves to bottles of water and sit on a low stone wall just outside the grotto, bare-chested and relaxing.

 

"Oh, okay." The muscles in Jared's throat catch Jensen's attention, working as he swallows gulp after gulp of cool water. "It's weird," he says when the bottle's empty. "You're so zen about all this stuff."

 

"Why is that weird?"

 

"Because we're strippers."

 

"No," Jensen clarifies. "You're a stripper. I'm an exclusive performer."

 

"My bad," Jared teases. "Listen, I know this is really awkward to say, but I had a good time tonight."

 

"This wasn't a date."

 

"I know," Jared says, amusement pulling at the corner of his mouth. "But I'm kind of glad we were double-booked. Maybe we can hang out sometime. I work down at The Stallion, you should come and see me one night and we can have a drink."

 

The Stallion is a creep-infested dive, but even Jensen had graced its stages once upon a time. Most of the performers he knew paid their dues there. Though popular enough to draw crowds every night of the week, it isn't the kind of place Jensen plans to set foot in again.

 

"What do you need all this money for?" Jensen asks. "You mentioned textbooks."

 

"College is expensive, haven't you heard?" Jared starts on his second bottle of water. "I'm gonna be a senior in the fall, and then hopefully vet school after that. I've got to keep ahead of the loans somehow."

 

"So, stripping?"

 

"Hey, it's easy, plus I can't complain about the money compared to the number of hours I work. Beats waiting tables." Jared waits for it all to sink in, an easy silence with the muted sounds of music coming from inside. "Speaking of school, I need to get back to my apartment and study. I didn't think I was gonna be here this long. But I totally don't mind," he hastily adds. "I'm serious about meeting up again, this was fun."

 

"I'll think about it."

 

"Could I maybe have your number, just to make sure you're _thinking_ about it."

 

Jensen always has a few business cards tucked away. He pulls one from his jeans pocket and uses a pen from Jared's bag to write his name and personal number.

 

"Jensen," Jared reads. "I like that a hell of a lot better than Jenny Boy."

 

"Makes two of us."

***

The Stallion is dimly lit, providing cover for its many transgressions and imperfections. Jensen touches nothing and no one, sliding carefully through the swaying crowd until he can see all three of the dive bar's stages. He has disguised himself as much as possible: glasses instead of contacts, a dressed-down outfit that screams _I'm one of you_ instead of _I make more in a week than you all make in a year_.

 

"Holy shit!"

 

Jensen doesn't have time to curse before he turns around and fakes a smile. Perry, the slicked-back and greasy owner of The Stallion, is eying the length of him and practically salivating. "Jenny Boy! Never expected to see you back here in my club."

 

"I was feeling nostalgic," he deadpans. "Thought I'd see if you had anything new."

 

"Are you here to watch or to dance?" Perry leers. "'Cause I tell ya, if you're here to dance, I'll make it worth your while, baby."

 

Jensen tamps down on the bile clawing up his throat. "Nah, thanks. You've got your own guys ready to go on, I'm sure."

 

Perry scratches his cheek, his cheap, fake tan about to flake off under his fingernails. "Got some new kid, Jay Ryder, all set to go on, but I'd bump him for you. I know you like the stage all to yourself, Jenny."

 

The nights Jensen spent here come rushing back. No stage means no money. When you're starting out, the pole means a hell of a lot more than just earning your stripes and moving up the circuit. Sometimes, it's the only way to make a living and Jensen can remember too clearly how Jared begged outside the grotto.

 

"I'll go on." It bursts out before Jensen's done thinking. "But I want ten thousand and half of it goes to this Ryder kid."

 

Perry's nodding like a bobble-head, but he stops at the last demand. "To Ryder? Why the hell would I give him five large?"

 

"Because I'm gonna be dancing with him, Perry." Jensen slams the door on any argument from his former sleaze-bag of a boss. He'll take his own five grand and put it towards future therapy. "I want the center stage in twenty minutes, alright?"

 

At this point Perry would track down a banana python if Jensen asked for it as a prop. He slithers away muttering to himself, probably itching to spread the word about Jenny Boy's return and pack even more horndogs into his club. Jensen doesn't need anyone directing him to the dressing room, the familiar dark hallway looks the same as it did five years ago when Jensen made the rounds. Deeply stained walls, varnish as thick as plastic and chipped all over. 

 

Being a relatively private person, Jensen's not used to friendship. It throws him to have one as new and fragile as this thing with Jared Padalecki is. Jared has called him a few times, prodding Jensen for tips and stories which he'd been surprisingly willing to give. He hadn't planned on showing up tonight, but when one of his clients canceled, he was left with a free evening and the urge to get out of his condo.

 

He reaches for the dressing room's door handle but gets blown back when it opens.

 

"I'm getting ready to—Jensen!" Jared stops in his tracks, smacking his cell phone shut and tossing it on one of the sickly green couches behind him. "What the hell are you doing here? Not that I'm not—I'm glad you're here, but what are you doing, you know, back _here_?"

 

"Your boss is giving me the main stage for a special show."

 

"Oh, I—that's awesome." Jared's cheeks are pinker than Jensen's favorite button down. "Who wants to see me when they can have you, right? At least this way I get to watch you dance."

 

"You're gonna be doing a lot more than watching, Jared." He smirks and relishes the moment Jared gets it, eyes going comically big and mouth dropping.

 

"What do you mean? Are you—seriously?" Jensen's not prepared for Jared launching out of the dressing room and hitting him square in the chest like a hyper monkey. "This is—I can't believe you! What do you want me to do? Do you have music set up and everything?"

 

"I worked something out with Perry, don't worry," Jensen adds a little distractedly, contemplating Jared's outfit and how he can make this work. Loose jeans that are ripped and worn at the knees (and won't that inspire a few patrons), paired with a tight, white t-shirt that was made to fit his body. "The act you were about to do, you wouldn't be playing a naughty student, would you?"

 

Jared laughs. "I guess you've seen it all, huh? Should I change?"

 

"No." Jensen already has an idea. He's going to give this club a show it's never seen. "No, you're perfect just like this."

***

Saying the crowd goes nuts is an understatement. They flip their shit when Jensen's stage name is announced and he gets an admiring smile from Jared. This is what he's worked for—not the venue he's used to, but the absolute adoration is a drug shot straight into his veins. The instant he steps under the club lights, Jenny Boy lets loose. His glasses are no longer a dorky accessory, they give him the gravitas and authority over his misbehaving student, Jay Ryder.

 

Just like the grotto, Jensen's impressed to see Jared slip so easily into another persona, all of his excitement and bubbly gestures pushed far down to leave a cocky student who's just used up the last of his poor teacher's patience. Good thing Jenny knows exactly how to deal with naughty schoolboys. Jay Ryder may act tough when Jenny threatens him with detention, grinding up against his student's ass and letting the crowd see just how turned on he is, but Jay’s limbs start to loosen and sway with Jenny's hips. 

 

The show is one big tease. Jenny, strict and proper in his glasses and borrowed tie, grants glimpses of Jay's toned torso to the eager men pressing towards the stage. Lets them have a peek of his golden hipbones, features of his body Jensen remembers from their bachelorette show. Just when Jay starts to get in on the action, thrusting his ass back to encourage Jenny, he pushes his delinquent student away towards one of the metal poles. In a move he's done a hundred times, Jenny swiftly strips out of his shirt without taking off his tie, and some lucky bastard in the audience is suddenly going home with Jensen's shirt. Good riddance. Moving to pin Jay against the stripper pole, Jenny's hands lift his shirt and toss it away. He steps back to admire the way Jay's hips thrust out towards him then beckons his student with a crooked finger and a look that brokers no argument.

 

Coming and lowering himself onto his knees, Jared's mouth is a breath away from Jensen's fluttering stomach, but Jay backs away until the pole is between his calves, his spine arched against it which in turn pushes his magnificent chest out towards their audience. Only through great effort does Jensen prevent his tongue from rolling out onto the floor like a red welcome carpet. Mastering his reactions, Jenny Boy saunters close, spins around the pole and back to face Jay's supplicant form.

 

"Up, baby," Jenny commands, the men closest to the stage whooping. His fingers are rough and demanding, unfastening Jay's jeans and tearing them down his legs. "I want to see what you've got for me."

 

Now only wearing his tight, black hot-pants, the pole becomes Jay's focus, his long body wrapping around the metal in ways that make Jensen insanely jealous. His moves are phenomenal. Why Jay Ryder's not The Stallion's featured act is a mystery. Warming up with a few simple spins, holding the pole and spreading his legs for the crowd, Jay starts lifting himself against the metal, grinding and pushing like the most decadent club boys can. Bulkier than every other pole dancer Jensen's met, Jay is graceful but dominant. The pole is his prop, not his focus, and Jensen can't drag his eyes away. Jay gets a good grip on the metal and lifts himself high on the pole, spinning down with the pole running across his lower abdomen. He splays his legs wide and keeps his ass taut as he circles all the way to the floor and pushes onto his feet. Cheers and catcalls trail him across the stage to where Jenny Boy's waiting sternly.

 

"Good enough for you, teacher?" Jared's winded, breath gusting across Jensen's cheek, but his eyes stay hot and in the game, showing the crowd that Jay's far from finished. Jensen's pants aren't meant to hold up against Jay's insistent fingers, soon thrown backstage. Thank God for Jared's quick thinking or those jeans would be gone for good, and the for fact that Jensen _always_ wears great underwear when he goes out.

 

"Show me what you can do," Jared whispers for only Jensen to hear.

 

What Jenny wants to do is lay Jay out on that stage and really give these men a show. Instead, he gets Jay right up against his body, their curves tight together, and sways him deep and dirty. With the crowd's encouraging shouts, pretty soon he has Jay bent at the waist, hands braced on the floor, while Jenny Boy dances against the back of his thighs, teasing his fingers along and below the elastic of Jay's underwear. Jenny's hands paw down Jay's back and around his waist, palming that flat stomach and pulling Jay back to his hips. 

 

Everything they do is drowned in noise. Jenny Boy takes his turn on the pole to thunderous cheers, harder to concentrate but he's a professional. He builds on Jay's slick moves and adds a few of his own specialties. No real order to his performance, just doing what feels right and constantly spinning back to meet Jay's burning stare on the other side of the stage.

 

Fifteen minutes after they step out, Jensen's exhausted. He understands that Jared has been pushing himself to a new level and when they take their final bow their shorts are stuffed with folded and crinkled bills. No encore tonight, Jenny Boy swiftly drags his nearly naked, very naughty student into the darkness and leaves the audience reeling with one last smack to Jay's ripe ass.

 

The rush hits when they disappear backstage, adrenaline kicking up and leaving Jensen's skin tingling. Yanked against the wall, Jensen falls into Jared's side and stays there while his body recovers. The hundreds of men and women packing the bar are yelling for their encore but neither of them can move. Jared's ear is turned towards the stage, taking it all in. Jensen remembers when that kind of drunken ovation was new and intense, feeling a sudden pride for this kid shaking next to him.

 

"Holy...shit." Jared's breath comes in a rush. "You think Perry'll give me a couple extra hundred for that?"

 

"I think he'll be pretty generous."

 

Jared's kiss is open and friendly, smacking on Jensen's lips. He's sweaty and panting, but so is Jensen and he kisses back feeling the same exhilaration. They're mostly naked and oblivious as The Stallion's next performer struts onstage. Jensen's energy takes a while to come down after his performance, glad Jared is there to ground him with skin-to-skin contact. Another dancer rushes by and hands them bottles of water which they both drain gratefully.

 

"I gotta—" Jared nods towards the club a few minutes later.

 

"—Work the room, I know." A dancer's work isn't finished when they leave the stage. Mingling with admirers, letting them slip crisp twenties into his pockets, is just as important if Jared wants to make a name for himself. He can arrange private performances in the back rooms for more money if he wants, or stick to whispering seductive promises. Anything to keep these men coming back for more.

 

"I'll be quick," Jared says. "If you wait for me, we can head out and grab some food afterward. There's this great place up the street that serves pancakes all the time, and I'm starving already."

 

"Martin's Diner, I remember." He waves Jared out towards the waiting patrons. "I'll definitely wait."

 

"Awesome." Jared gives him another swift kiss. "And thank you. You are...fuck, Jensen. You're the greatest."

 

Jensen's heard it so many times, but coming from Jared as he spins out into the club to reap the benefits of their performance, it's never meant so much.

***

**SIX MONTHS LATER**

 

Jensen's not surprised when he gets home and finds an army's worth of dishes stacked up in his sink. Jared had his first exam of the semester this morning and never went to bed, going through his stash of candy and chips like a junkie. It's not Jensen's favorite activity in the world but there are worse things than washing dirty dishes. His roommate had a rough week and cleaning is the least Jensen can do.

 

In Jensen's mind, moving into his condo was one of the smartest decisions Jared has ever made. A better decision than the heavy sideburns he thinks are hot and Jensen knows look absurd, and definitely smarter than living off Rockstars and barbecue potato chips when Jared gets really stressed. The money Jared saves on rent goes towards school and allows him to quit dancing at The Stallion.

 

"I feel just like Pretty Woman," Jared had said the night he finally finished unpacking. "You rescued me from the ghetto and a life of selling my body."

 

"This is nothing like Pretty Woman." Jensen brought them each a beer to celebrate. "Your place was okay but your roommate was a dick who fucked up your lease. And if you ever become a hooker, I'm kicking you out."

 

"What if I'm behind on my bills?"

 

"Then you can sell your body to me and I'll make you work it off."

 

"Mmm, sounds dirty," Jared hummed.

 

"Oh, it will be," Jensen had to tease. "Cleaning the bathrooms, vacuuming, weeding my vegetable garden. You'll be filthy."

 

Every once in a while, Jay Ryder comes back to do a gig with Jensen; Jared's the one person he doesn't mind sharing the spotlight with. Taking the stage with Jay is better than being the lone star. Perry leaves them a dozen messages every week trying to get them back on The Stallion's center stage. One or two acts a month keep Jared's wallet full and fat since he insists on buying groceries and helping Jensen with the utilities. 

 

It's really nothing like Pretty Woman. Richard Gere (who would totally be played by Jensen if this were a movie) didn't get to kiss Julia Roberts, but Jared kisses Jensen all the time. Little, friendly pecks on Jensen's cheek when Jared gets home; wet, goofy lip locks when he's in a good mood. Jensen's favorites are the sweet kisses Jared gives him, lips touching gently. They feel more genuine than the others.

 

Not that Jensen and Jared are _together_. No, they're just roommates quickly making the jump to best friends. Jared's idea of personal space is being as far up in everyone else's as possible, so there's a lot of cuddling and hugging involved in being his roommate. Jensen enjoys having a good friend around to tell him how sexy he looks in his new silver hot-pants or encourage him to give the scruffy look a try once in a while. Like having a personal consultant, fashion guru, and body pillow wrapped up into one energetic package. A package Jensen realized he was falling in love with months ago.

 

Confidence is one thing Jensen Ackles has never lacked and he knows it'll happen for Jared and him someday. Hell, they already have every part of a relationship, up to and including long, quiet talks in one or the other's bed, but the sex. Jensen's job is imitating sex and passion and it's almost nice to come home and just veg out on the couch. Accountants don't come home from the office and start crunching numbers, right? Of course, Jensen still thinks about sex, he's a red-blooded male after all, and lately it's been Jared starring in all of Jensen's inspirational fantasies.

 

It takes half an hour to get the kitchen straightened up to pre-exam conditions, leaving Jensen enough time to work out and get through most of his yoga routine in the living room before Jared bursts through the side door.

 

"Hey, I brought dinner! Are you hungry yet—oh, sorry. Am I interrupting?"

 

Jensen straightens from Exalted Warrior and grins. "I was just finishing up. What's for dinner?"

 

He gets his usual hello peck-on-the-cheek before Jared answers. "They had salmon filet on sale at Trader Joe's, so I bought a couple. Mashed potatoes for me, green beans for you. Does that work?"

 

"Sounds awesome," Jensen says, clicking off the mood music playing softly on the stereo. "Go get cooking! Oh, how'd the exam go?"

 

"Fine, I think," Jared yells back from the kitchen, the rustle of bags as he unpacks the groceries. "I took the whole two hours, though, and went over my answers twice."

 

"I'm sure you did great."

 

Jared whips up dinner, a steady stream of conversation the entire time he's cleaning and chopping vegetables for a side salad. Jensen watches in a daze, half-listening. Jared's car is clunking when he turns right and probably needs to be serviced pretty soon, but he'll have to schedule something around all his classes. He's also thinking of ways to get ahead of his class work so he can drive up the coast to Sonoma over Fall Break, a trip Jensen's been promising since Jared moved in. And the next time he's at Bed, Bath & Beyond, Jared really needs to buy a new pillow because his is too flat and it's kinking his neck—

 

"Jensen?"

 

He startles. "Huh? Sorry. I guess I spaced out."

 

"You're probably just hungry." Setting two steaming plates on the counter, Jared spins. "And, voila! Dinner's served."

 

"Thank you." 

 

Tonight, Jensen kisses Jared for a change. Steps up alongside him at the counter without over-thinking and brings Jared's mouth down with a soft hand on his chin. Not gentle or goofy, this is impulsive but genuine, Jensen's whole body saying _yes, finally_! 

 

Jared holds him, hands steady on Jensen's upper arms. He looks down with soft eyes when Jensen leans back. "What was that for?"

 

"For dinner?"

 

"It's just salmon," Jared whispers. His brow crinkles. "Was it for _more_ than just dinner?"

 

Jensen smirks and pulls away, grabs his seat at the counter and doesn't bother hiding his red cheeks.

 

"Fine," Jared teases. "Be like that, but I'll find out." He sits, still grinning, and nudges Jensen's shoulder before he starts in on his food.

 

Yeah, Jensen knows they'll get there. Maybe even a little sooner than he expected.

 

 

FIN.


End file.
